Thursday, 16 April 2009

Cock punch

Everybody is obsessed with saying 'cock punch'. I find this disturbing. It seems that generally people are saying it with reference to their own cocks, ladies included. I am assuming that the ladies are referring to their metaphorical cocks. Yesterday I overheard this example:

Man in red shirt: The sound was so shit I wanted to punch myself in the cock.Man in blue shirt: Yeah. Cock punch.Man in red shirt: Yeah, definitely cock punch. They are the shittest band in the world.Man in blue shirt: Cock punch.Man in red shirt: Sweet as. Cock punch.

What in the hell is going on?

A month or so ago some friends of mine had a band meeting. At the meeting they passed the resolution to 'not be shit'. It was a unanimous decision. If a person in the band decided that the band was beginning to sound shit they would mime a 'cock punch' thus alerting the rest of the band to a potential problem. How they thought that miming a 'cock punch' would go unnoticed by the crowd I do not know. I have since seen several people I don't know miming a 'cock punch' on the street.

All this miming of and talking about cock punches is well and good but I am a woman of action so I punched Brain Campeau* in what I suspect was his special man area.

I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing with my arms. I was quite excited and not a little elated after just witnessing something astonishing on a small stage on top of a mountain. I was performing an involuntary dance of happiness when my knuckles came into sudden contact with something hard. That's when Brian Campeau staggered forward into my field of vision and it became clear that he was the hard thing I had hit. He said something to me, I know not what, embarrassment has a muffling effect on my ears. He staggered forward clutching at the lower parts of himself and performing a strange little sort of hop.

I excitedly asked Brian if he was going to die. He proclaimed that he would live. I explained that I was sorry but also excited at the possibility of becoming a sudden murderer. He said "There are knives in the kitchen if you really want to kill me". Of course the entire exchange was witnessed by the two musicians I had come to review.

I was mortified at not only punching him in what I suspect was his 'area' but then telling him I was excited about murdering, in between prolific apologies. I thought about telling him that not only was it not personal but fairly inevitable because I am a Mashwoman but I think that would have increased rather than decreased my mortification.

The next day my knuckles were red and speckled with tiny grazes caused, I suspect, by the zipper on Brian Campeau's jeans.

* It is well worth stopping for a small moment to listen to his song Montreal by clicking here.

** It is also worth listening to the last song Falling live on FBI. You can hear someone laughing with astonishment at the end of the introduction, this is not an unusual response on first seeing Brian play his guitar live. What people don't know is that while his guitar playing appears to be impossible, it can sound like two guitars being played at once, is that his voice is huge, warm and frequently sublime.